


A Manufactured Happiness

by Cesarinna



Category: Original Work
Genre: Arguing, Arranged Marriage, BDSM, Break Up, Breaking Up & Making Up, Caning, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Femdom, Fights, Getting Back Together, Het, Makeup Sex, Making Up, Marriage, Mistress, Mutual Pining, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Paddling, Spanking, Storming out, Submissive Male, Woman on Top, also heavy dom/sub in some places, dude is whipped lmao, femdom undertones, girl is pissed, if you read this you're an emotional masochist, kinky makeup sex, mentions of kinky sex ;), reads like like a fanfiction even though it's an original work lol, sorry this one is literally just self indulgent emotional pain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 11:48:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22155565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cesarinna/pseuds/Cesarinna
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 27
Kudos: 87





	1. Chapter 1

Darcy was on her mother’s email at five in the morning when she found the truth. She was looking through an old family laptop, a chunky thing thicker than a textbook and heavy like a brick. It could hardly function, fans whirring loudly to life as soon as she opened it. She wasn’t supposed to have it, but it must have been lost in the mess of boxes while Darcy and her husband moved into their new home, and shoved into a closet to be discovered four years later. 

She powered it on giddily, hoping for family photos or home videos. The last thing open on it was email. She gave was about to click off of it when something caught her eye. 

To: chris.navone@hotmail.com

From: e.halbrooke@gmail.com 

Subject: Darcy and Luca (178)

Date: 7/18/11

She frowned. Darcy met her husband in September, two months before the last email was sent. They introduced each other to their parents over Christmas. There was no explanation for this conversation between her mother and her father-in-law in July. She clicked on it and began a slow scroll to the beginning. As the 178 messages passed, she glimpsed the start of the emails. They horrified her. Things like ‘ _they’re going to love each other’_ and _‘what about a gallery?’_

She spent hours reading through all of them. Her parents and her in laws had everything planned, from when they met, to when he proposed, to what kind of food she liked, to her music taste. They wanted them to get married, and from what she saw, it was because both families would benefit financially. They were the two wealthiest in the area, and they could be the indisputable first if they manipulated their children well enough. 

Luca was told because he was docile and took orders easily. If his parents wanted him to seduce a stranger, he would do it. Darcy was not. She was strong minded, liked to do things on her own terms. 

She brought her hand to her mouth, vision blurring with tears. She wiped them away, refusing to cry. Her head spinned with everything she had learned. Suddenly, she was glad she was an early riser. Luca wasn’t awake yet, he wouldn’t be for the next hour. That gave her time to prepare to confront him, then her parents. 

It took half an hour to print the emails out, and those were only the ones from before they met. Her mother had changed her email address since then, so she only had access to the older ones. Still, it was more than enough proof, not that she believed Luca would try to deny it. He wasn’t the type to lie. 

Well, that was what she had been led to believe, anyway.

Luca emerged from the bathroom, towel over his head but fully dressed. 

“Good, you’re done showering,” Darcy snapped. It was nine in the morning, and she was at the dining table with a folder full of the messages. “Come here, I want to show you something.” 

“Baby?” Luca asked, eyes big with worry. He set the towel down. “What’s wrong?”

He ran his fingers through his still-damp hair. That was a nervous habit of his. He spent too much time drying it after showering, and it still wasn’t enough for his thick curls. She was almost impatient enough to barge into the bathroom and force him to answer for his lies, but she stopped herself. If she was going to do this, she wanted to do it with dignity. 

“Sit,” she ordered. Like a dutiful lover, he obeyed. She slid the folder across the table. 

He flipped through it, one hand in his lap and his shoulders curled down. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. After scanning three of the emails, he set them aside. It repulsed him to see them. He didn’t need to read anymore, he knew what they were. 

“Honey, where did you get this?” he asked, voice wavering. 

She crossed her arms and leaned back. “Does it matter?” 

“I—I guess not,” he stammered. Luca searched his wife’s face for forgiveness, understanding, for _anything_ , but she only stared back. He stood abruptly, knocking his chair over in his rush to close the distance between them. “Please, baby, I can explain.” 

She threw up her hand when he reached for her face. “Don’t touch me, Luca. And don’t call me that.” 

He _whined_ , actually whined like a puppy. That seemed to upset her more. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please just… just let me explain.” 

“OUR ENTIRE MARRIAGE IS A LIE!” Darcy roared, showing her violent power without even touching him. “What the hell is an explanation going to do to help?” 

Luca flinched and fell to his knees to clutch the hem of her skirt. He hated when she yelled. His father had constantly berated him for being so soft, but he always felt safe to be vulnerable with her until now. 

He buried his face in the fabric and sniffled. His wife, his beautiful, kind, powerful wife, had discovered the one thing that could destroy them, the only secret he kept from her. He felt his life unravel as she pulled away and exposed his face, already streaked with tears. 

“How long have you known?” she demanded. 

“Since the beginning,” he admitted. “My mom and dad told me their old friends had a young and beautiful daughter. They thought the best thing for both our families was joining them. I never had a choice.” 

She drew in a long, labored breath. “When we met at the opening night in that stuffy gallery, was that planned?” 

Darcy knew the answers to all her questions. They were all in the folder, but needed to hear the truth from him, from his mouth. 

He nodded. “Yes. It was planned months beforehand. Your parents told me you could be volatile, and you might not like me. We wanted everything to be perfect.” 

She bit the inside of her mouth, feeling tears begin to form in her eyes. Her parents calling her volatile didn’t surprise her, but this lie, it was ripping her open. “So when I introduced you to my parents at the Christmas party, had you already met them by then?” 

“Yes,” he repeated. 

She rose from her chair, going to the window. She didn’t want to look at him right now. “Was anything real? Did you love me when you proposed?”

“I—I don’t think you want to hear the answer to that, Darcy.” He picked at his hands, still on the floor because he was afraid to join her at the window. 

“So you didn’t,” she sighed. “Did you love me when we got married?” 

“No—but, Darcy, please _,_ please listen to me. I fell in love with you slowly, and I love you now. More than anything. I love you so much it hurts. Isn’t that all that matters?” he pleaded to her turned back. “Say something. God, say something!”

She drummed her fingers on the windowsill. “What am I supposed to say? That I forgive you for lying to me for years? You didn’t love me when you proposed, you didn’t love me on our _wedding day_. That was the happiest day of my life, did you know that?”

“It was the happiest day of mine, too,” he tried desperately. “I didn’t know that back then, but I do now.” 

She whirled around, fire in her eyes and teeth bared. “Did you have a choice in whether you loved me?” 

He gave her a wistful smile. “No, but that wasn’t because of our parents. It’s because no one can help but fall in love with you. I didn’t love you until the day after our wedding, when we woke up and I saw your smile. You were so happy, and I realized I was happy too.” 

Darcy scoffed. “Don’t. I don’t want to hear that bullshit. Damn you. _Damn you_ , Luca. I’m leaving.” 

He scrambled to follow him when she left the windowsill and started for their bedroom. She sped up the stairs and to a closet. He was about to ask what she was doing when she pulled the biggest suitcase they owned from the corner. His throat began to close and his stomach twisted. 

“No! No, no, no, Darcy! Darcy, please. Don’t go. P–Please don’t go.” He grabbed her arms, trying to overpower her for the first time in his life. She was usually the one in control, they both liked it that way, and it seemed she still was. She wrenched out of his hands easily, like he was a stuffed animal instead of a man. 

“Don’t touch me,” she spat through gritted teeth. “Don’t fucking touch me.” 

She slammed their bedroom door. The sound of her ripping open the drawers to stuff her clothes in the case was apparent through the wall. He wiggled the locked doorknob and pounded the door with his fists. His hands were beginning to hurt when she opened it five minutes later, suitcase almost bursting full. This wasn’t an angry overnight escape. She was really leaving, and taking as much as she could with her. 

Darcy lurched downstairs with her bag. She stuffed her laptop and chargers in it. 

“Don’t do this, Darcy.” 

Her phone went in an outer pocket. 

“I love you. You know I do.”

She slid her wallet in her pocket and shrugged on a light coat for the fall chill. The folder was still laying on the kitchen table. She tucked it under her arm. 

“Don’t you leave me,” he begged. “Please, I need you. I love you, doesn’t that mean anything to you?” 

She flung her body violently around to face him. “It means you married me out of convenience. You didn’t love me then, I don’t believe you when you say you love me now.” 

“You’re being—” he hiccuped, “—so unfair.” 

Tears clumped on his eyelashes, falling down his face when they became too heavy. He whimpered, a strangled sob, and her resolve weakened. The man she loved was hurting. She choked on the urge to kiss him, to forgive him. That felt natural for her. She didn’t want to leave him when he was so genuine, so helpless. Wasn’t that all she ever wanted from him? 

And he knew it. He knew her every thought because he really did love her. No matter what she thought, he loved her. Luca didn’t try to hide his weakness. She couldn’t leave when he was like this, could she? His wife, his Mistress, his protector against a judgemental world wouldn’t abandon him like this. 

Darcy never learned ‘I love you.’ She never earned the ring on her finger or the man crying in front of her. His love was served to her by her parents and in-laws as if Luca was a dish and she was a child to appease. She had everything she wanted, but it wasn’t hers. 

“I’m going to Laura’s house,” she decided, heading down the stairs and to the door. Her keys were splayed on the kitchen counter. He tried to snatch them, but she was quicker. “Don’t follow me.” 

There was only one thing left to try. He felt himself losing control, and he wanted her to have it instead. If this couldn’t get through to her, nothing would. 

“No, Mistress. Please, don’t go,” he cried. “Please, I need you.” 

Mistress, that was her title when she was fucking him raw, wrecking her pretty husband. That was her name when she had him tied up and desperate. Not when she was about to leave him. Darcy was about to ignore him when a realization struck her hard. She froze while her fingers were locked around the doorknob. 

She couldn’t breathe for a moment. Suddenly, she didn’t want to be angry anymore. “Oh my god. You let me whip you, you let me peg you and tie you up and you didn’t even want it, did you? You let me do whatever I wanted because our parents wanted us together.” 

She wanted to throw up when she saw his expression. It was true. 

“Mistress…” Luca whimpered. “I…” 

And that was it. She felt her rage evaporate, replaced with a heavy fear. “I hurt you. I forced you to do things you wouldn’t enjoy.”

“That’s not true, Mistress,” he promised. “I enjoyed it eventually. You made me feel safe and loved.” 

Darcy placed her hands on his face, damp with tears. He melted in her touch. He just wanted her. He just wanted them to be okay. She drew him in and put her forehead on his. His red eyes wobbled as he looked at anything but her. 

“I…” She was at a loss for words. Bile crawled up her throat. “I hurt you, and you _let_ me. You didn’t even like the things I was doing to you, pet.” 

“I learned to love it, Mistress. Just like I learned to love you. You introduced me to your world so gently, so kindly. You didn’t hurt me, I promise. I wanted it, I wanted everything you gave me.” He put his arms around her waist and kissed her, kissed her deep and slow. She reciprocated, but it didn’t feel like forgiveness. 

It felt like goodbye. 

They were both gasping and breathless when they separated. There was love in her eyes again, love and pain when there was only emptiness before. She was only human, she couldn’t hide her emotions forever, especially not from him. 

“I can’t stay, pet. I’m sorry, but I can’t. I need time to think,” she murmured. “I need to think about our parents, our marriage, our future, and I can’t do it with you here.” 

He wanted to scream. Nothing was enough for her. He knew he couldn’t convince her not to leave, but he was trying anyway. “Stay tonight. Just tonight, please. I need you.” 

Darcy shook her head. “I’m sorry, pet.” 

She turned to open the door and stepped into the garage with her suitcase. 

“Don’t—”

The door shut in his face. 

“—go.” 


	2. Chapter 2

“It’s fake. All of it’s fake.” Darcy began to shake with rage and confusion in her best friend’s living room. “He didn’t love me until after we were married, can you fucking believe it? Four years of marriage, more than two years of dating, and he didn’t fucking love me.” 

“But he does love you,” Laura pointed out through a mouthful of lunch. She was never the most tactful of her friends. “He loves you now.” 

“How can you say that? What if that’s a lie too, and he only wants to save our marriage to keep my money?” 

“It’s not like he isn’t just as unreasonably rich as you, even if you have more than him. He comes from money too.” Laura brought a napkin to her face. “Besides, I see how he looks at you, like you’re the center of his world. He gets up at three in the morning to pick you up from the airport. He’s miserable when you’re gone. He stays home from work when you’re sick when he doesn’t take any sick days himself. If that isn’t love, nothing is.” 

She sighed and buried her face in her palms. Laura was right, but she didn’t know what to feel. 

“Are you going to divorce him?” she asked tentatively. Darcy didn’t answer. “You’re going to destroy him if you do that, and I know you love him too.” 

“I don’t know. I just don’t fucking know!” Darcy erupted. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”

“It’s fine. It doesn’t bother me like it bothers him.” Laura set down her fork and stood, brushing the crumbs from her lap. She extended her hand to her best friend and helped her up. “What are you going to do?”

Darcy allowed her to hug her, just this once. She didn’t like touching anyone other than Luca. She didn’t like being close to anybody else, but she needed someone right now, as her life was crumbling in front of her.

“I’m going home. Will you drive me? Your car is bigger than mine,” Darcy mumbled into Laura’s shoulder. 

“You’re moving out?” 

She nodded weakly. “I don’t want to be near him right now. I don’t want to look at him.” 

“Damn,” Laura muttered. “You’re pissed, I know, but think about what you’re doing. He can barely function without you. You have him whipped, you know. He’s going to tear himself apart if you’re not there to stop him.”

“I’ll tear him apart myself.”

Laura grimaced. “Are you hearing yourself right now?” 

She went limp, hating what she just said. She hoped she didn’t mean it, but she didn’t know anything for certain anymore. She thought it was a coincidence that her parents adored Luca and his parents loved her, and she was wrong. She thought that he had fallen for her from the start, and she was wrong. Worse of all, she thought she had finally found someone who was glad to submit to her, and she was wrong. Maybe she was wrong about herself, too, and she  _ did _ want to tear him apart. 

Laura had a point. As wrong as she was about everything, there was no doubt that if she left him, he would be devastated. He had never learned healthy ways to cope with the trauma his parents inflicted upon him, turning to her instead for comfort. If she was the source of her pain, what would he do then?

She untangled herself from Laura’s hug. Suddenly, her touch wasn’t soothing anymore. It only reminded her of what she was about to lose. 

Darcy sighed. “Let’s go. The sooner I finish this, the better.”

They didn’t speak while Laura drove them to her house. Soft music played on the radio, some unbearable pop song relegated to the lowest volume. She tapped her fingers on the window, watching the town blur through the glass. The buildings disappeared, replaced by gentle hills and crooked trees. They lived a good distance from the city, almost a thirty minute drive, where the larger houses were built. The wealthy preferred to be away from the bustle of traffic and passing people. 

Darcy owed her a favor after this. Drives like this were easy, but long. She wondered how she made it to Laura’s house yesterday morning, in her vicious rage. She was driving one minute and in front of her apartment the next, like her mind was too messy to process anything in between. 

“Hey, we’re here. Darcy, are you okay?” 

She didn’t answer. What was she supposed to say, anyway? 

Every light in the house was on, like Luca was screaming that he was waiting for her. Her seatbelt clicked, she unfastened it. If Luca was there instead of Laura, he would be opening the passenger door for her. He would grasp her hand, and kiss her wrist, and smile at her like his entire world was right in front of him. She rubbed her eyes. They burned from a night of restless sleep and fighting off the urge to cry, to scream, to feel something. 

He wouldn’t be kissing her anymore. 

Her keys were in her hand. She reached to unlock the front door, but decided against it. Things would only be worse if she snuck in and he called the police, thinking she was a robber. She rang the doorbell. 

The pounding of Luca’s feet down the stairs was obvious and immediate, even through the stately double doors. He flung it open and lunged at her, ensnaring her in his arms so tightly that tears sprang to her eyes on reflex alone. 

“You’re back,” he croaked. “Oh my god, you’re back.”

“Luca, get off me,” she hissed. 

He looked down at her, eyes already watering. “Please, baby, can we talk?” 

Darcy sometimes wished she was taller than him. That would put her around the 6’2” mark, but she wouldn’t feel so small compared to her boy. She glared up at him, shoving him aside. “Don’t touch me.” 

He swallowed, feeling his throat close. “Are you coming home, baby?” he asked, voice thin and weak. “Please, say you’re coming home.” 

“I’m not going to have this conversation with you right now,” she replied, voice empty. “Let me in.” 

He stepped aside passively, unable to help his obedient nature. 

Luca’s heart wilted. He was stupid to think she wouldn’t stonewall her. When she was angry, she closed herself off. She didn’t scream like his father or hit him like his mother. That used to make him so grateful, that she was aware of his sensitives, that she was a gentle woman. He wished she would slap him and shout now. Anything was better than being ignored. She was colder than he had ever seen her. Not a good sign. That meant his wife was furious. 

She didn’t bother to kick her shoes off like she usually did. She wasn’t planning on staying long. His heart sank further. 

Laura pushed past him as well, unwilling to speak to him. She did give him a sympathetic smile. A humorless, joyless smile. Whatever she knew, it wasn’t good. 

“Darcy,” he began. 

“I said  _ not now _ ,” she snarled. “Laura, help me get my clothes. Suitcases are in the upstairs hallway closet.” 

To her credit, Laura didn’t offer a poorly-timed sarcastic remark. She only nodded and headed for the kitchen island. The two of them were alone in the entrance hall with her gone.

She opened the heavy oak doors to her study, intending to go by herself, but he followed her into the room. A dusty briefcase laid half-open under a chair. She yanked it out and started gathering her work papers. 

“You’re moving out,” he said. It wasn’t a question. The answer was clear enough already. “Is there anything I can do to stop you? Please, there must be something.” 

She faltered. A little bit of hope returned. If she wasn’t completely sure, he had room to negotiate. There was nothing more unmovable than his wife when she had made up her mind, but she hadn’t gotten to that point yet.

“Permission to touch?” Luca asked. 

She cocked her head at him, looking up from the papers she was filing into her briefcase. “Why?”

He shifted back and forth on his feet, playing with the seams of his shirt. “Because I want to hug you, and you won’t let me unless I have your permission.” 

She paused to consider it before she relented. “Granted.”

He went to her immediately, kneeling at her feet and leaning his head on her side. Her hands went to his hair on instinct, rubbing his scalp. They had only been separated for a day, and he was already suffering from withdrawal symptoms. He hadn’t slept since she left, could barely keep down a snack, much less a meal. He spent yesterday afternoon flipping through the emails, some of which he hadn’t seen himself. She had taken a copy with her when she left, and left another for him. 

It was a constant reminder of his mistakes. He should have told her. He should have been honest. He was sick afterward, not that there was much to throw up after starving himself all day. 

She was back now, his drug. He breathed in her scent, unbearably content for a moment. High off her presence. It wouldn’t be long before the house was empty again. This time, her possessions would be absent as well.

Luca had a stomach-ache. He had been driving himself insane ever since she left. She was about to leave again, maybe for good. It was getting worse. 

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered. 

Her fingers froze in his hair. She moved them to his jaw, tipping his head up towards her. “You’ll be okay, Pet.” 

Pet. He shook his head, already beginning to unravel. His dry eyes stung as tears came. “I won’t, Mistress.” Damn this, he was using her title if she was using his. “You know I won’t. I need you.” 

“And I need to go. I can’t be with you right now, not after what I learned yesterday.” Darcy looked down at him with pity. “You wouldn’t have told me the truth. Maybe things would have happened differently if you did. But I found out on my own, and now I have to process it, Pet.” 

“I wanted to.” Luca whimpered when she pulled away to get other things. “I wanted to so badly, but my parents wouldn’t let me and I… I knew you wouldn’t want me anymore if you knew.” 

She paused. Did she still want him? This was the man she loved, kneeling on the floor, begging for her to stay. But the man she loved lied to her for years. How could he humiliate her like that? No, she couldn’t do this.

“You’re right,” she said at last, though her heart pleaded with her not to. “I don’t want you. I’m not going to stay with a man who lies because he’s afraid of his parents.” 

“You know what they did to me!” he cried, still on the floor. “I couldn’t tell you, damnit.” 

“Don’t raise your voice to me,” she snapped. The effect of her orders were immediate. He clamped his mouth closed and dipped his head. “A six year lie. That’s six years I won’t get back, all because you’re still a child, listening to everything Mommy and Daddy tell you.” 

“Please, Mistress,” he begged, standing up as she made to leave the office with a briefcase of documents and work papers. “I never meant to hurt you.” 

“But you did,” she said as he grabbed her from behind and pulled her into his chest. He held her, and she didn’t struggle. She was allowing him this one mercy. “You hurt me.” 

“Don’t leave me,” he murmured, tears wetting her hair. “I can’t lose you.” 

She stepped out of his grasp, mercy gone. “You already have.” 

That struck him as permanent, struck him in the heart and left him breathless and in pain.  _ Please, no. No. _ He knew his wife, he loved her—even if she thought he didn’t. He knew her decision was made. He loved her well enough to know. 

“There’s nothing I can say, is there?” Luca’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he struggled not to cry. 

“Not anymore. Maybe if you told me the truth, and I didn’t have to find it myself, things would be different.”

She walked to the combined kitchen and dining room. The copies of the emails she left behind for him were scattered across the room. Some of them were ripped apart, others were spattered with tears. Obviously, he hadn’t enjoyed reading them. 

Laura was waiting with three suitcases. Her clothes were probably horribly wrinkled in there. 

“I just took everything from the closet and shoved shit into your bags,” she explained. “I found your toiletry bag so you won’t have to worry about that. Do you have any more suitcases? Your wardrobe is so damn big.” 

Darcy pointed to a drawer. “Garbage bags are in there. Just put the rest in them. He can keep everything else.” 

Luca looked down, sniffling and rubbing his eyes. He didn’t want to cry in front of his wife’s best friend. Ex-wife soon. The thought made him want to grab her and lock all the doors, begging and apologizing until she agreed to stay. But that would only anger his mistress further. She didn’t like to be told what to do, and he didn’t like telling her. He couldn’t say no to her, even if it destroyed him. And she was. She about to destroy him. 

He loved her. He did. Luca fucking  _ loved _ her so much it hurt. He loved her soft hands, and her impatience for bullshit, and how she smelled of lavender and lemons, and her lyrical laugh, and the way she held him, and—

Shortly after their honeymoon, when he had finally begun falling for her, he developed a habit of staying awake until the sun rose—just looking at her. He memorized every detail of her face. It became an obsession. For months, he would get home from work and kneel at her feet, doing anything she asked of him because he loved her, and he loved to please her, and eventually he learned to love her sexual peculiarities as well. He could barely function during work, when he was away from her. He hated it. Without her around to keep him awake, his routine of not sleeping caught up with him. 

She was concerned when he quit his job, not liking that he was putting her above his career. He told her he didn’t care, he was barely a passable financial advisor anyway. The only reason he had his outrageously high-paying job was because of his parents. They weren’t pleased with his decision either. Financial gain was the reason the two families agreed to join in the first place. 

That was the first time he told his parents to fuck off, and the last. She made more than enough money for the two of them as a lawyer. They were in their late twenties with no children, no pets, either. Their mansion in the far-out suburbs was fully paid for by their families, a wedding gift. 

And disagreeing with his parents was the best choice he made. He was miserable in his job. He would rather clean the house and cook her meals and tinker with his projects instead of languishing in an office. Most importantly, his wife liked the arrangement too. That was the only thing that mattered. As long as she was happy, he didn’t care what he had to do, what he had to sacrifice. 

And now she was doubting his love for her. Darcy was a smart woman, but not when it came to this. He tried to hide his shaking. She was his wife, his mistress, his whole damn world, and she didn’t believe he loved her. Even worse—he couldn’t think of it without tears springing to his eyes—she didn’t want him anymore. 

Laura clambered up the stairs with a roll of garbage bags. She sighed in relief when she was out of earshot. She was always a private woman. Having a witness to the end of their marriage must have mortified her. 

_ The end of our marriage _ . 

His wife twisted her wedding and engagement rings off her finger. 

“Wh-What are you doing?”

She set them down on the kitchen island. They clattered on the marble, each gentle  _ tink, tink, tink _ pinched his heart until he was about to collapse. “You should keep these.” 

“No,” he breathed. He had almost begun to accept defeat, until he saw the rings. Desperation reared up in him again. He had not stopped fighting yet. He would never stop fighting. “No, no, no. Please,  _ no _ . Put them back on. Please.” 

“Luca—” 

“Please! I’m fucking begging you, Darcy put them back on. Please, Dar—Mistress. Please,” he cried. She didn’t give any ground, face set like a statue. He stood for a moment to grab the rings and knelt again, on one knee. It was an awful imitation of his proposal, but at least he loved her this time. “Please, baby… honey, put them back on.” 

She shook her head, staying silent.

He fell on his knees, clutching her legs. “Please. I’ll do anything. I’ll never keep secrets from you again, I’ll never lie to you again. Please, Mistress, anything. Anything. J-Just—fuck! Just put them back on. Put them back on.” 

He leaned into her. His wife, his mistress, his world. She was everything to him, and he was about to lose her. He was about to lose everything. 

“I can’t, Pet,” she whispered. “You know I can’t. Now, stop begging. You won’t change my mind.” 

He looked up at her, openly crying. Tears slipped down his cheeks in curved lines, snot glistening on his upper lip. Once, she told him he cried prettily. That was when she had him tied to the bed, teasing him until he strained against the ropes and arched his back in distress. Nothing about this crying was pretty. It was crude, messy, pathetic weeping and gasping as he came undone in front of her. 

“I… I love you,” he said, voice thick and anguished. He could hardly breathe through his closing throat. “I love you so much. I—I don’t know what else to say.” 

“There’s nothing you can say.” 

‘Why?” he croaked. “I love you.” 

“You lied to me.” 

He gripped her harder when Laura came down the stairs, bags full of her clothes. He was running out of time. His words came out in hitching gasps, like he was drowning. “I gave you everything. Everything, and I’d do it again. P-Please,  _ Darcy _ , I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Just don’t go. Don’t leave me again. Don’t fucking leave me. I couldn’t even live one day without you.” 

She cupped his cheek and nodded toward Laura. Her best friend began hauling everything into her car. “You’ll learn to.” 

And then she was gone. 


	3. Chapter 3

Her scent was fading. 

Luca clutched the pillow to his chest and wept into it. A strangled sound forced its way past his throat, a keen of loss. She might as well have been dead, anyway. She loathed him. 

Lavender and verbena. A simple, elegant mix that was so, so,  _ her _ . He had tried to reproduce it. He grew the flowers in the backyard and scattered them around the house, hoping desperately to bring life back to the rooms she had abandoned. 

He had burned the flowers in the end, sobbing as the purple plants folded and shriveled in the flame, screaming when his fingers wandered too close to the open flame. Nothing could replace Darcy. Not a pillow at night or some flowers during the day or her voicemails playing on repeat over the speakers. He learned to stop trying after four months. 

He eventually took up her hobbies. The grand piano sat untouched for five months. By the time he decided to sit down at the bench, the lovely living room centerpiece was covered in dust like the rest of his house. If he leaned in close enough, he could almost fool himself into seeing her fingerprints on the keys. He spent a week learning a simple tune. If she were here, would she enjoy it? The answer was no. It would always be no. 

He kept the emails on the dining room table. Even after so long, the pages sat there. Some of them were untouched. Some of them he had turned over and over in his hands again, reading even though his heart pleaded with him to stop. Some he burned like the flowers. He cut the webbing between his fingers with a page once and decided he deserved it. 

After six months, he dropped her favorite mug on the ground. It was the only one he drank from anymore, a hilariously oversized green coffee mug, stained permanently brown with the cold brew she loved so much. If he squinted, he could sometimes see the lipstick on the rim of it. Vivid red, because Darcy was never a woman to be subtle. 

When he shattered that damn mug, he knelt on the floor, scrambling to pick up the pieces. The shards of clay dug into his palms, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care even as he dripped blood all over the kitchen tiles, until he remembered Darcy had picked out those tiles. He had chosen a towel at random to soak up the blood. But that one was Darcy’s favorite towel, and wept harder. 

There was no escaping her. She was everywhere in this house, and nowhere. She was fucking gone, but he couldn’t escape her. He didn’t want to escape him. That was why he wore her rings on a chain around his neck. Every time he ran on the treadmill until he fainted, every time he bent over to pick something up, every time he rolled around in bed, the clink of the rings reminded him of her.

He didn’t remember when he started drinking. In fact, his memory failed him more often than it served him. It was probably after a particularly difficult phone call with her. 

“ _ How have you been doing?” _

“ _I… I’m fine._ _You wouldn’t care anyway_.” 

“ _ If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t be calling,”  _ Darcy had reasoned. 

“ _ If you cared, you would come home. You wouldn't be in—what, is it Spain this week?—with your friends,”  _ he had snapped. He remembered the guilt, the panic, when only silence came from her end of the line. She didn’t call him all that often, and he had been afraid that he just wasted a chance with her. 

“ _ You’re being difficult,”  _ she had said at least. “ _ I need time. _ ” 

He threw the useless fucking pillow across the room and wretched again. He was on the bathroom floor, emptying his stomach into the toilet after a particularly difficult week, which he dealt with the simple way, drinking. If Darcy was here, she would be scolding him and holding his hair back. But she wasn’t here. She was in France, Jamaica, or Spain, traveling with her friends and meeting other men. He hadn’t seen her in nineteen days, hadn’t spoken to her in four, hadn’t lived with her in eight months. 

It had been eight months since she moved out. For the first month, he sat in their empty house and waited to be served divorce papers. He didn’t hear from her at all during that time. Without a job or a wife to fuss over, he could only wither away, completely alone, waiting for something that might have never come. 

Then, out of nowhere, she had called him. He had scrambled out of bed to answer, knowing it was her. He had blocked everyone else. His friends, his family, they wouldn’t stop nagging him to leave the house, get over her already, stop being so fucking whipped. 

She had said she wanted to see him, to meet at their favorite cafe and just talk. He had tried to get on his knees the next day when they saw each other. He couldn’t help himself. There was his wife, the woman he loved, standing there in a maroon sundress and sandals. The sun glowed on her skin, like she was an angel. 

She had been mortified as the rest of the cafe stared at them. They had been expecting a proposal, with him half-kneeling in front of her. She had ushered him up and he obeyed, incoherent and elated just to be closer to her. They went to another cafe after that, since they had caused a scene at the first. He walked by her side, trying to take her hand, but she jerked away each time. He had kept mumbling that he loved her, but she stopped listening. 

When they arrived at the second cafe, she ordered her favorite green tea latte and sat down with him. Apparently, she had been frequenting the establishment ever since she left him. Everyone knew her name, which wasn’t out of the ordinary, her parents were the legends of her hometown. It shouldn’t have bothered him, but he hated that she was making friends and memories without him. They were supposed to work as a unit. 

She had asked him if he wanted anything to eat or drink and he had refused. He didn’t want to throw up on her. He had felt like a teenage boy again, meeting a girl for the first time. They felt like strangers, and their parents couldn’t puppet them back together now that she knew the truth. Luckily for him, she wanted them back together. She had promised to try, they would work it out. She wanted to give him a second chance. 

The encounter had been brutally brief, like she wanted to avoid giving him an opportunity to beg. He could barely choke out, “Thank you, Darcy. Thank you so much. I love you.” 

_ Try, my ass _ . _ She doesn’t give a fuck about me. _

It had been six months since that day, and they had only seen each other eleven times. She called him once every two weeks or so, texted him every other day at best. It was a far cry from being together every day, speaking over the phone every day when they weren’t, and messaging when she couldn’t talk. He knew she was a busy woman, but she was the kind of woman who made time for the people she loved. She didn’t do that anymore. 

He wiped the vomit from the corners of his mouth with a napkin and flushed the toilet. The distant headache that never seemed to ebb away had only been made worse by whiskey. He stood to clean his mouth and his vision blurred, head throbbing like the hum of machinery, swaying in his feet. He gripped the sides of the sink to steady himself. 

The doorbell rang. He rinsed his mouth quickly and stumbled down the stairs, almost slipping on the way. The double doors were windowless slabs of oak. He couldn’t tell who it was, but he hoped it was Darcy. 

He flung the doors open and slammed them closed again as soon as he saw who it was. 

“Get out, Jason!” He cursed to himself. “Whatever mom sent you to do, you’re not coming in here.” 

His brother laughed from behind the door. “I’ve got the keys. And it was dad that gave them to me, actually.” 

Fuck. Anything involving his father meant screaming and unbridled rage. He preferred his mother slapping him over his father yelling at him. Out of three children, he was always the failure. Always the stupid one. He wasn’t smart like his older sister, confident like his younger brother. He was just… there. Just a boy playing in the garden or tinkering in the toolshed. He wouldn’t advance his family’s standing, as wealthy as they already were. He was just an embarrassment at best and a liability at worst. 

Luca barely paid attention as his brother bustled in with armfulls of groceries. He headed toward the kitchen, the last place in the house his wife had been before she left him. He leaned against the wall, staring off into a distant point. 

He stopped being a burden when his parents arranged his marriage to the only daughter of the richest family in the city. He was disgusted with the idea at first. He hadn’t been allowed to date anyone—not that he minded. He liked his quiet afternoons, getting home and tending to his flowers and watching the birds. There was no room for a woman, for a  _ wife _ , in that peaceful routine. 

He met her in an art gallery, like his parents planned and future in-laws planned. Darcy didn’t have time for many things, but she did love art. They had bumped into each other and she started a conversation with her right away. Being with her felt natural, like he had waited his whole life for her without knowing it. He resented that feeling at the time, the feeling of  _ belonging  _ and  _ warmth _ . He didn’t like admitting that maybe his parents made the right decision by taking his decision away and choosing a spouse for him. That was why it took so long for him to finally realize he loved her. He had tried to deny it until the day after his wedding. There was no point in doing that anymore if he would spend the rest of his life with a woman he was perfectly compatible with. 

That was his Darcy, personable, resourceful, beautiful, poised, fucking  _ perfect _ , not that he realized it at the time. He was too consumed by self-pity. At least his parents stopped hating him now that he’d secured him a fortune. For the six years he was with her, they left him alone. The best six years of his life, and not because of them. Because of her. 

“This place is a mess,” muttered Jason.

He picked through the clothes on the living room floor. Luca had unofficially moved to the couch after Darcy left. The bedroom reminded him of her. 

“It’s been eight months and you’re still in a slump. And you smell like booze. What is that, whiskey?” He snatched half-empty bottles from the kitchen counter and poured them down the drain. “Jesus fuck, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.” 

“What do you want me to do?” he snapped. “Get over her?”

“Yes!” he exclaimed. “Get over her, goddamnit. She’s travelling the world with her friends, meeting new people, meeting  _ other guys _ , and she won’t even call you once a week. She said she wanted to work on your relationship and she’s done jack shit.”

Fuck, Jason wasn’t supposed to agree with him. Luca desperately needed encouragement, another push to keep going, keep waiting for her to forgive him. That motivation obviously wouldn’t be coming from him. 

“She’s not sleeping with other people.” He crossed his arms across his chest, the need to defend her immediately. “She wouldn’t do that.” 

“Yeah, the Darcy from before wouldn’t, but you haven’t been together in eight months. Who knows what kind of bitch she is now? She could be with anyone she wants, since she doesn’t seem to care about you.” 

“Don’t talk about her like that,” he growled. “She wouldn’t. She loves me.” 

Jason scoffed, a sound closer to pity than judgement. “Are you fucking kidding me? She barely acknowledges your existence. That doesn’t sound like love to me.” 

“Don’t tell me what you think love is. Not all of us can be as lucky as you. Mom and dad never made you meet and win over a stranger.” 

“Yup,” he said, popping the P’ “Because I didn’t need mom and dad to choose someone for me. I went out and found a woman they approved of on my own because I’m not—” he didn’t finish the sentence. 

Luca narrowed his eyes. “Not what?” 

“Nothing. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Darcy did a number on you already.” 

“Fuck you,” he spat, hoping Jason would just do what he asked. He knew he couldn’t overpower him if it came to that. “Get out of my house if you’re here to insult me.” 

“I’m not going to leave and let you sit here in your own filth. Look at you!” Jason strode over to him and poked him in the ribs. “You’re a stick. You don’t get your own groceries anymore, we have to bring them to you. When’s the last time you’ve gone outside, for God’s sake?”

“Why does that matter?” He shoved his brother’s hands off his body. 

“It matters because dad’s coming up here if you don’t fix your shit in five weeks. He made me tell you because he’s too busy. He’s getting sick of this.” 

Luca paled. “Five weeks? Wh-What does he want me to do?”

“Well, he wants you to reconcile with her if you can. That would be best for the family. If you can’t he wants you to ‘stop being a pussy,’” he quoted, “and get over her, I guess.” 

“A pussy? I… I’m just… waiting for her. She deserves time to think after what I did.” 

“Eight months isn’t enough time? You’re whipped,” he snorted. “You’re whipped  _ bad _ .” 

“I’m…” he opened his mouth and closed it again, unable to find the right words to defend himself. Of course he was whipped. This was his mistress, his love, his… wife. “I’m sorry,” he said. It was all he knew to say. 

“Just… Just do something. Anything, alright? We’re getting tired of this. You can’t keep living like this.” 

He took a deep breath and hid his shaking hands in his pockets. “I know.” 

“Jesus, man. I’m gonna have to clean this place up. Go take a shower, for God’s sake. This house smells like shit.” Jason made a point to pinch his nose and wave at the air in front of his face. 

Luca ducked his head, face flushing red. He used to pride himself on being a good housekeeper. He had allowed his house to fall apart with him. A pile of dishes cluttered the sink. Empty bottles and crushed cans of beer littered the hardwood and carpet. A fine layer of dust lined the coffee table, the bookshelf, the TV stand. 

His brother’s tone softened. “Hey, I was just kidding. The smell’s not that bad. It looks like a mess, but it smells okay. And don’t give me that look.” 

“What look?” 

“Your ‘pity me’ look!” He exclaimed. “None of that bullshit works on me and you know it.” 

Luca chuckled under his breath, feeling a little better despite himself. “I wasn’t trying to, but fine.”

Jason started to sort the groceries he had brought into the refrigerator. “Go take a shower, I’m going to put these away and heat up the mac and cheese mom made me bring. You look like you haven’t eaten in days.” 

Luca shot him a glare. “Fine. Don’t burn my house down.” 

He clambered up the stairs, legs feeling heavy. He couldn’t deny that he was exhausted. His body was rejecting his refusal to sleep, his refusal to eat, his new drinking habit. He stumbled into the shower, shedding his dirty clothes on the bathroom tiles. 

By the time he returned to the kitchen twenty minutes later, it was damn near pristine. He had always joked as a child that Jason could clean faster than any maid. That was his brother, perfectionist through and through. The same applied to his sister, to his parents. He was the only one who could be satisfied by anything less than the ideal. 

“Would it kill you to clean up after yourself?” Jason grumbled. 

“Sorry. It just hasn’t been my first priority lately,” he muttered.

His brother clapped his back on his way to the front door. “Well, you should change that soon, buddy.” 

“Bye, Jason,” he called after him. 

Luca fell onto his couch and decided that now would be a good time for another nap. That was the most interaction he had had with his family in months, and even a little was too much for him. He had barely closed his eyes when his phone began to ring. 

_ Shit, shit, shit. _ He fumbled to unlock it. It was from his lawyer. He had no idea what the hell that could mean. Well, he did. He knew exactly what it meant. But he didn’t want to think about it. He couldn’t, not without needing another drink. 

“Hello?” he rasped. 

“Luca, your wife sent me some papers. I need you to come to my office as soon as you’re able,” she said. “She wants this done with quickly.” 

He swallowed. “Wh-What do you mean? What papers?” 

“Divorce papers,” she answered. “I’m sorry, Luca. I have to make another phone call in about a minute, but I’ll be free for the rest of the day otherwise. Can you be here in an hour?”

He picked himself off the couch and snatched his keys from the counter. The drive from his house in the country to his lawyer’s office downtown was at least half an hour, but the staccato gunfire of his heart demanded otherwise. 

“Give me twenty minutes.” 

  
  


Darcy was on the beach of Malibu when her hometown’s local hospital called. Laura called her new travelling habit escapism. She called it an extended vacation that she certainly earned. 

“Are you Mrs. Halbrooke-Navone?” the voice of a woman chirped from the other end of the line.” 

“Yes, I’m Ms. Halbrooke. Just Ms. Halbrooke,” Darcy corrected. 

Well, she wasn’t just Ms. Halbrooke  _ yet _ . For months, she had put aside initiating divorce proceedings on account of the seething twist of her heart every time she tried to file the papers. The doubt within her clawed at her insides until she felt close to vomiting. But something had shifted in her earlier in the day. She had woken up with the courage to finally call Luca’s lawyer, and she couldn’t let it slip. She wanted it done with. 

“Well, it says here that you’re Mr. Halbrooke-Navone’s emergency contact. He’s been in a car accident.” 

Darcy’s heart flew to her throat. She clutched her phone until she was afraid it would snap in her fingers. “What happened? Is he okay?”

“He’s in stable condition for now, but we need you or another family member to come and sign some paperwork.” 

Her instinct demanded she book the next available flight back home. Her mind demanded the exact opposite. 

“There must be some sort of mistake,” said Darcy. “I shouldn’t be his emergency contact.”

Well, on all other accounts other than her pride, she should. Legally, she was his next of kin. Her hands shook as she gave the nurse another number to call. 

Not his mother or his father. Luca loathed both of them. Not his sister. He wasn’t very close to her. She decided to give her his brother’s contact and wished the soft-spoken woman the best. 

Luca wasn’t Darcy’s concern anymore. Soon, the divorce would be finalized and she would never have to think about him again. He could take everything, for all she cared. If he married her for money, then so be it, let him have it. To hell with the house, to hell with their little art collection, to hell with the flower garden, to hell with it all. Let him keep their life together. 

She shouldn’t care anymore, that was what logic demanded of her. She  _ shouldn’t  _ care anymore. 

But logic be damned, she began to look for flights. 

  
  


Luca woke to an achingly familiar voice. 

“I am his wife. Let me in, goddamnit. I am his  _ wife!”  _

His head hurt. His chest hurt. His back hurt. Someone’s hand was wrapped in his. His sister’s. He could hardly recognize her, full face of makeup streaked with tears. 

His wife, his  _ wife _ , finally talked her way past the nurses and stormed in. “Get out,” Darcy ordered his sister. 

Laney shook her head. “After the shit you’ve been pulling, you have no right to tell me what to do.” 

“The shit  _ I  _ pulled?” Darcy demanded. “Your family—”

“Just go,” Luca rasped. He knew his wife better than he knew himself. She was combative, to put it lightly, and she would raise hellfire until she had what she wanted. 

Laney looked at him, then darcy, then him again. “If the bitch tries anything, I’m coming back in.” She snatched up her bag and left.

Darcy folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the wall, hungry eyes slipping over his body for injuries, softening her glare each time she found another one. He wanted her to come closer, to touch him, to tell him she forgave him, to do  _ anything _ , say  _ anything _ . But she kept quiet, face empty. 

“Darcy…” 

“I haven’t seen you in months. Be quiet and let me look at you.” 

He closed his mouth and gladly obeyed. He had gone so long without an order from her. Her stare was withering, cold and unforgiving even at his most vulnerable. That was his wife, never sure when to let the untouchable facade slip.

The machines around him beeped. That was the only indication he had that time hadn’t stopped entirely. 

“What happened?” she said at last. “I didn’t want to ask your family.” 

He took a deep breath. “My lawyer said she received papers from you and told me to come into her office. I got distracted and—” He couldn’t finish, choking on his own tongue when he saw her expression shift into something far too close to disappointment. 

“And you weren’t paying attention to driving on your way to his office,” she muttered. “Of course you weren’t.” 

“Don’t be mad,” he pleaded. “I-I’m sorry, please don’t be mad.” 

She sighed. “Okay. Okay, fine. I’m not mad. But, damnit, Luca. You scared the shit out of me.” 

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “They found alcohol in my blood, but not enough to count as a DUI. You know I’ve always been a lightweight.” 

“Jesus, Luca, you’ve been drinking?” she demanded. 

He winced at her tone, and the anger left her face, replaced by regret. They both fell into silence, unsure of what to say, unsure of whether or not anything could be said at all. 

Luca stretched his arm out to her, whimpering at the pain and his body’s protest. “Please, can you come closer? I need you right now. I’ve needed you for months.”

She hesitated, face neutral. But her eyes, her eyes betrayed the conflict between her heart and her pain. 

“I’m sorry I’m asking so much of you,” he whispered. “I’m sorry if I’m asking for too much.” 

“No, you aren’t asking for too much,” Darcy decided. She sat in the chair Laney had been in only a few minutes before. Luca felt his heart beating in his ribcage, about to rip through it. He hadn’t realized how anxious her presence made him until now, even if it was the only thing he wanted. “I’m your wife. You’re my responsibility.” 

“Darcy…” 

“Let me finish. I’ve been unfair to you. I should have filed for divore or made an effort to fix this, and I did neither for months.” Darcy played with her hands in her lap and chewed her lip. “And when I finally did, I regretted it. I should have known better.” 

He knew his wife. That was the closest she could get to an apology right now. But he didn’t want to hear one. He was too tired to talk about this, too needy. He just needed one assurance. “Please, Darcy, not now. I just…” He reached for her hand. “Please?” 

She laced her fingers between his and held him tightly. There was warmth, regret, worry in her touch, but no hate. None at all. There was no love either, but she was good at hiding things from him, wasn’t she? As good as he was. 

“I missed you,” he whispered. 

“I missed you too,” she returned.

His breath hitched. Tears brimmed in his eyes. How had they gotten to a place where ‘I miss you’ had replaced ‘I love you?’ He wanted this ordeal finished. He wanted her to come home. He wanted things to return to the way they had been, but he could never ask for that. He was pushing her already by asking her to tend to his neediness. 

“I didn’t think you would come,” he admitted. 

“I didn’t either, but I was so scared for you. I wanted to ignore this. I wanted to hate you, but I can’t. I just… can’t.” She brought their hands to her face and rested her forehead against his fingers. She sagged under the pressure of the universe. “And… I was so afraid of losing you for good. I’ve been ignoring you for the past few months and I—” 

Luca lifted his head to look at her, and she was crying. Darcy Halbrooke, his wife, his mistress, his protector, was crying in front of him. That was something he had only seen one or twice before. Everything in him demanded that he do anything necessary to stop it. 

“And I realized you might not always be around for me to ignore,” she choked. “I’ve been so petty that I’ve thrown away months of our lives. If you will have me, I’m going to stop divorce proceedings and move back in.” 

She let go of his hand to wipe at her eyes. He whined low in his throat until she grabbed it again. He was too deprived of her voice, her touch. Here she was, the woman he loved, the woman who might as well have been a god to him, a ghost story. He tried to sit him, but she shot him a withering glare. 

“I just… I just want to hug you,” he explained. 

She shook her head. “Don’t strain yourself.” 

“But I love you,” he murmured, hoping she wouldn’t hear but knowing she did. 

“I…” she swallowed and blinked away her tears. For a moment, his heart caught in his throat, afraid she couldn’t bring herself to say it back. “I love you too.” 

Luca let out a long breath that was more of a whimper than anything. “I didn’t think I would hear you say that ever again.” 

“I know. I’m sorry,” she forced out. “I’ve been so... unreasonable.” 

“But I lied to you for years! If I was you I would have done the same thing,” he said, rushing to defend her against herself. 

“Then we’re both unreasonable,” she said. “It’s time to grow up, don’t you think?” 

He nodded, then winced. 

“You ought to rest,” she whispered. “I’m going to go back to my apartment, get a few things sorted. I’ll be back in a few hours.” 

“But…” He trailed off, unsure of what to say. His protests had never worked on her—he doubted they would start working now. “Okay. But promise?” 

She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I promise. I just want to put this behind us.” 

“Me too.” 

He let go of her hands and watched her leave again. But maybe this time would be different.


End file.
